


Ambrosias Waltz

by 0Mothman0



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, LGBT, Lesbian, ghost - Freeform, jane austen but ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Mothman0/pseuds/0Mothman0
Summary: Ambrosia is a princess who died during a tragic accident during a ball her parents were holding in order to find her a suitor, and now she remains among the living, searching for her true love. But maybe her true love isn't who she thought it was...
Relationships: Fern/Ambrosia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

Ambrosia was a beautiful girl, and it was said that her beauty was rivaled only by that of her mother, Midora. At this moment, there were hundreds of families waiting at the castle gates, preparing to dance their night away, and possibly win the heart of the princess herself. She carried herself proudly down the gilded marble staircase, resting her hand lightly on the rail. Her dress was red as blood, and flowed behind her like feathers in a breeze. Flowers decorated her light hair, which was twisted up and filled with miniature braids. Her parents stood above her on the balcony, darting their eyes through the crowd for any sign that someone had taken an interest in their precious girl. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, a young man approached her, bowing. 

“Prince Theron, son of Queen Alvara and King Nicodemus. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He rose again, this time extending his hand for Ambrosia to take in her own. “May I have this dance?”

Ambrosia nodded slightly, mustering a weak smile as the Prince guided her to the dance floor. Seeing that the Princess had taken to dancing, the band began to play a traditional waltz, and the Prince smiled. He looked at Ambrosia, but she seemed distant, as if in a trance. Her eyes were fixed on a point over his shoulder, but not as if she were looking at something, for they were glazed over, but as if she were thinking of something dear to her. The partygoers danced around them, and those who weren't dancing were conversing on the outskirts of the room, or meeting with her parents. Suddenly, the Princess drew away from Theron, sighing and muttering a quick “Forgive me, but I must go.” before curtseying and dashing away. 

Her parents were going to scold her for this, but at that moment she just had to get out of there. She’d never been fond of balls, even before she was of age, but now that she was, her parents were holding at least one a week, desperately trying to find her a decent suitor. She didn’t need a suitor. She didn’t want one. 

She traveled the hallways, slowing down only to smile apologetically at the maids who were rushing down the halls with platters of food. She ran up a new set of stairs and turned a corner, swinging the dark wooden doors open. She immediately calmed as the smell of books and the cool air from outside flooded her mind. She walked out to the middle of the library, staring up through the glass ceiling, looking at the stars that seemed to smile and dance along with the music that could be heard from the ballroom. 

“What to read today?” She asked herself, wandering through the aisles. She closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, before turning left down one, only to stop again, and close her eyes once more. She took a deep breath before taking a step forward, then opened her eyes. 

“The Son of the Prey. Perfect.” She slid the book off the shelf, smiling to herself. She’s read this book before of course, and somehow kept getting drawn back to it. As she approached the small chaise that had been moved to a quiet corner of the library, she sensed that something was...off. She couldn’t hear the music anymore. What she could hear were distant shouts and footsteps. She assumed her parents were looking for her, furious, so she sighed and put down her book, approaching the door. But when she opened it, all hell broke loose. There were flames licking at her feet, and coating her eyes in smoke. She coughed, as more smoke snaked its way down her throat, suffocating her. 

Without thinking, she ran up the stairs to the second floor of the library, and watched in horror as the fire began to eat away at the first floor, the books burning in minutes. One of the curtains around the window caught aflame, and she realized how stupid she’d been. 

“The window!” she wheezed softly, tears streaming down her face. She ran to the stairs but there was fire and debris everywhere, blocking her way. She contemplated jumping from the balcony, and took off one of her shoes, but as her foot hit the floor, she hissed in pain. Looking at the bottom of her foot, it was already blistering. If the second floor was already this hot, there's no way she’d make it on the first. She began to panic, her breathing becoming erratic and strained as with each inhale her lungs were coated in more smoke. She could still hear people shouting in the halls, and tried to call out for help. 

“I’m in here! Please, somebody, I’m in here!” she screamed desperately, but nobody came. 

Princess Ambrosia died there, in her family's library. One of every partygoer who died during the whole incident. When somebody finally found her body, she was curled in a ball on the floor, clutching a book. The only book that survived. “The Son of the Prey”.


	2. Chapter 1

The air is still, calm as my shoes follow the cracks in the old library floor. The moon and stars dance and smile at me through the shattered hole in the ceiling. Rows upon rows of books, no longer legible are organized gracefully, almost too perfectly across the balcony and main floor below me. Moths glide lazily through the air, as though scared to disrupt Mother Nature herself. Peering around corners and down the aisles, I search. For what, I do not know. Perhaps it’s some lost item. Perhaps it is a found item. Perhaps a lost item will find me. One row after the other after the other, my heart racing faster after each step, I begin to jog, then run down the dusty halls, the only noise being my boots clattering on the marble floor. Then suddenly, I stop. Resting my hand on the side of a bookshelf, I cautiously approach the item that has so guiltlessly stolen my attention. A single book sits abandoned on a table. I pick it up and brush away a layer of dirt, reading the title aloud:

“The Son of the Prey? What a grim title.” I place it back on the table, and suddenly-

“Hello?” a hoarse voice calls out to me. I stumble backwards, almost tripping over the table. 

“H-hello?” I whisper, glancing around. “I’m sorry to intrude, I just, I found this place while wandering the forest, and-”

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? My name is Fern. Fern Baker. Do you know how long this place has been abandoned for?” I ask, still unaware of who-or what-I’m asking. 

“About a hundred years.” The voice says. “Maybe longer, time seems to move differently for people like me.” 

“People like you?”

From around one of the charred bookcases, a figure steps out. It’s a girl around my age, maybe older, possibly 17? She’s wearing a red dress, and her hair is adorned with small white flowers. I stand up and walk over to shake her hand, but as I get closer, I notice more and more things about her. Her dress is dirty and there are scorch marks all over it, she’s missing one of her shoes and her bare foot is covered in burns, and I can see that they travel up her leg, and there are more on her arms and face. Her eyes are red, and she seems to be looking not at me, but near me, as if she can't even see me. But the strangest thing I notice-

“I can see through you?” I phrase it as a question but it most definitely isn’t. I see the other rows of books behind her, though they’re hazy and slightly discolored. 

“I am Princess Ambrosia. Daughter of Queen Midora and King Demitri. Why are you here?” She presses, either ignoring my comment or not hearing it.

“I was taking a walk through the woods, and I came across this castle. Do you…” I look her up and down, not wanting to offend her by asking if she lives here, as she clearly doesn't live anywhere. “Is this your home?” I say instead. 

“It was,” she says. “Well, it was my father’s. Have you heard anything of him?”

“I have,” I say. “From what I’ve heard there was an accident here one night. A fire. Everyone was trapped and killed.” I glance at her face again, and notice that even though she is burned, she is still beautiful. “Were you…” I trail off, not wanting to make her upset. 

“That was my favorite book.” She says, pointing to the book on the table. “I can’t read anymore. The fire partially blinded me.”

So she can’t see me. I pick up the book again. “Well,” I say, thumbing through the pages. “I could read it to you.” She perks up and takes a step towards me, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Oh, really?” She seems to bounce with glee. “That would be wonderful!”

I sit there and read to her for hours. She’s leaning forward the whole time, soaking up every word that falls out of my mouth. As I finish the book, my voice is shaking, and I have to clear my throat to get it back to normal. 

“Thank you.” Ambrosia says, smiling at me. “I never thought I’d hear that story again.” 

“Of course,” I say, standing up to set the book back on it’s table. “I’d offer to read you a new book but-” I sweep my arm around the library, “none of these can be read anymore.” 

“It’s alright, you’ve helped quite enough already. I’d see you back to your home but…” she motions down at herself, similar to how I addressed the books. I laugh, but it's a short, breathy laugh, that’s more of a sigh than anything. I don’t bother telling her I don’t have a home for her to see me back to. 

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’d like.” She offers, snapping me out of my thoughts. “There ought to be at least one good bed for you.” My face pales momentarily at the thought of staying the night in a ghost’s castle, but I figure it’s better than the streets, plus she doesn’t seem to be malevolent. 

“You’re sure I’m not intruding?” I notice my hands are shaking and hide them behind my back. 

“Don’t be silly, I haven’t had company in ages but,” She looks down at herself as if remembering what she is, “if you wish to leave, you may.” 

“Your Highness, I-”

“Please,” she smiles, “call me Ambrosia.”

“Ambrosia,” I say, smiling back at her, her name filling my mouth with something sweet. “I’d be honored.”


End file.
